


You Can Hold My Hand If You Want to (Cause I Wanna Hold Yours Too)

by marauders_groupie



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 13 Going on 30 AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 04:10:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5077231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauders_groupie/pseuds/marauders_groupie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They always say you should be careful what you wish for but thirteen year-old Clarke Griffin thought that being a successful thirty year-old lawyer couldn't possibly be worse than celebrating her first birthday without her dad. </p><p>But new life of success comes with its price, and it's estrangement from everyone she once loved - including her best friend, Bellamy Blake. </p><p>Basically, Bellarke 13 Going on 30 AU, as requested.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Hold My Hand If You Want to (Cause I Wanna Hold Yours Too)

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thanks to the anon who sent me the prompt: "okay so what do you think about a bellarke 13 going on 30 au?" I think yes, my dear friend, I think yes!
> 
> I took the liberty of changing up the plot because I couldn't see Clarke as wanting to be so popular that she pushes away her best friend, and she doesn't strike me as the fashion magazine editor type. So, there's that. But the main conflict is basically the same - be careful what you wish for. 
> 
> Also, a disclaimer: I don't think Justin Timberlake is cute. Seriously. He was only the first celebrity I came up with when I thought about the 90s.
> 
> Having said that, go forth and read it while I twiddle my thumbs over here! :)

****

** May 1998 **

 

The first thing that Clarke saw when she came to school that morning was a voice recorder right under her nose. It didn’t surprise her that much, seeing that her best friend, Bellamy Blake, was the one holding it with a huge grin on his face.

“So, Miss Griffin, what does it feel like to be thirteen?”

Clarke rolled her eyes, annoyed and amused at the same time. “Is this really what school newspaper reporters should be doing?”

“Oh yeah,” Bellamy nodded enthusiastically, his glasses sliding down his nose. “It’s going to be an exposé – _Clarke Griffin_ ,” he raised his hands, eyes distant and dreamy as he came up with a hypothetical headline, “ _What makes the future awesome lawyer tick?_ ”

She swatted his recorder-bearing hand away and he stashed it in his pocket, keeping up with her stride towards their history classroom.

“So, happy birthday, Clarke,” Bellamy smiled, uncharacteristically shy, and ducked his head as they entered the classroom and took their usual seats in the back. “I’ll give you your present tonight.”

“Thanks, Bell. Although you didn’t have to get me anything, you know that.”

She knew how hard Bellamy had it; his mother worked three jobs and they couldn’t even afford a nanny so most of the days it would be Bellamy and Clarke looking after his younger sister Octavia. Besides, a friend like Bellamy – Clarke’s _best_ friend – didn’t have to get her anything.

“I know,” he huffed, running his fingers through his hair. “I wanted to.”

Of course he did. He always wanted to look out for Clarke, always wanted to make her smile, especially in the last few months since her dad died.

She and her mom were still trying to cope with that. Without Jake Griffin, their lives were different. Clarke mostly just missed her silly dad who’d barge into her room on her birthday with a tray filled with waffles, teasing her that she’s getting older and should probably start thinking about a retirement plan. Clarke always told him that he was annoying but now she’d give anything to hear him again.

“So, six at your place?”

Clarke nodded, shifting her focus to the teacher and dreading the lunch with her mom. It wouldn’t be the same without her dad handing her the presents, along with the words “Happy birthday, kiddo.”

 

**

 

Clarke’s mom was considerate as ever but she still didn’t know what to say. The two of them were close but Clarke had always been closer with her dad – it was easier. So the lunch was quiet, just Clarke stabbing the food on her plate and pushing the vegetables around while Abby tried to make small talk.

“So, you still want to be a lawyer?” Abby tried, dropping her fork on the side of her plate and looking at Clarke with a strange mixture of sympathy and sadness.

“Mm.”

“I think you would be very good at that, Clarke.”

“Mm.”

“You won’t say anything but ‘mm’?”

Clarke shook her head. “M-m.”

She was almost relieved when the doorbell rang and a grinning Bellamy appeared in front of her. This time he had Octavia in tow and the six year-old pressed a chocolate-coated peck on Clarke’s cheek, running away to play in the basement.

The two of them followed her downstairs, Bellamy talking animatedly and hinting at what was in the box he’d been carrying and Clarke mostly just trying to sound cheerful.

They were sitting around the coffee table in front of the TV when Bellamy told her to open her present. She ripped through the pink wrapping paper and stuck her hands inside the box, feeling the edges and carefully getting the thing out.

It was a dollhouse.

“You know how you always wanted a Barbie dream house? Well, I made you a Clarke dream house,” he smiled and she couldn’t help but to beam up at him. He looked nervous but there was really no reason to – she loved it. Before she could say that, he gestured towards the rooms inside the dollhouse. “See, that’s you, relaxing in a bubble bath after cracking a tough case. And this is your graduation certificate from Harvard Law because of course you’d graduate summa cum laude.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, fond, and continued the tour with the living room.

“And this is that prick you like, Justin Timberlake, on your couch. This is me,” he gestured towards a cardboard figure with a picture of his face glued to it, “making sure that the creep keeps his hands to himself.”

She couldn’t do anything but hug him, the smell of graphite and chocolate – Bellamy – enveloping her. This was her best friend, her best friend in the whole wide world and she loved him to bits.

“Wait, I got you something else.”

He rummaged through his pocket with a frown and finally emerged with a little red packet, smiling victoriously.

“Wishing dust!”

“Wishing dust, Bell? Seriously?”

He nodded, tearing it open and sprinkling the glitter over the roof of the dollhouse. 

“Make a wish.”

Clarke sighed but scooted closer to the coffee table, closing her eyes. She knew exactly what to wish for, knew it since this awful day began and since she’d seen her mom’s Cosmo on the kitchen table. There was a beautiful model on the cover, her blonde hair falling down her shoulders in waves and her suit ironed to perfection. “ _Thirty and thriving – beautiful and successful_ ” it said, and she just wanted all of this to pass until she could be a successful lawyer without wanting to cry all the time.

She opened her eyes after she blew the glitter and laughed when she saw bits of it catching on Bellamy’s hair. She chuckled, tugging him up and making him help her get the dollhouse on the bookshelf.

They spent the rest of the afternoon watching the TV and eating the cookies Clarke’s mom made, and everything was going great until Abby came down again, a present in her hand. It was wrapped in green paper and her mom had a wistful smile that alerted Clarke to something bad definitely happening. She said nothing, only tearfully wished Clarke a happy birthday – again – and left.

Bellamy took the present from her while she stood frozen in her tracks and unwrapped it in two quick moves.

“It’s a tape.”

Clarke whirled around to face him and squinted at the VHS tape in his hands. He looked confused and she didn’t feel any better either.

“Let’s play it.”

They settled back on the couch, Bellamy pressing the play button on the remote control. Somewhere in the back of the room, Octavia was recreating a scene from Friends with Clarke’s old dolls, while the two of them stared at the black screen, transfixed.

When Clarke’s father’s face came on the screen, her breath caught in her throat and she squeezed Bellamy’s arm so hard he gasped.

Jake’s voice drifted from the screen, accompanied by his smiling face. “ _Hey, Clarke. Happy birthday, baby. I’m sorry I can’t be there with you but I instructed your mom to ask you about your life goals since you’re a grown up now, and I trust she did what I told her to._ ”

Clarke snorted. So that’s what her mom was trying to ask her over the lunch.

“ _If she didn’t, well – take it easy on her. She’s just trying to do what’s right. I know that the two of you miss me but you’re my girls – you’re strong. Just stay together and keep each other safe._ ”

She let out a sob and Bellamy interlaced their fingers, quiet at her side. Her dad kept talking and Clarke wished he wouldn’t ever stop.

“ _And as for you, kiddo – stay in school, have friends, have fun. I know that you miss me but we’ll see each other again. Not soon, I hope, I’m up to my eyeballs in work here and yours isn’t done yet. Go get that law degree, kick some serious butts. You can do it._ ”

She nodded at the TV, feeling hot tears streaming down her cheeks and wishing for nothing more but to just hold her dad’s hand again, to tell him that she loves him – just one more time, just one minute.

“ _Bellamy, and I know you’re there_ ,” he rolled his eyes and Clarke chuckled. “ _You’re always at Clarke’s side these days and I’m glad that she has someone she can count on. Please, keep an eye on her, threaten her boyfriends because I won’t be able to, and take care of yourself. Give my love to your mom and Octavia._ ”

Bellamy nodded quietly, tears welling in his eyes as well, and Clarke squeezed his hand tighter.

“ _Never forget that I love you. Happy birthday, kiddo_.”

She mouthed _I love you too_ at the frozen image of her dad smiling on the screen. Jake Griffin, with his brilliant smile and really bad dad jokes. Jake Griffin, whose cancer spread faster than it should have and –

“They didn’t want to tell me.”

Bellamy turned over to her, eyes glassy, and she tried to suppress a violent sob but failed. He wrapped her in a hug and she cried into his shirt while he tried to comfort her as much as he could.

“They – they thought it would hurt too much,” she continued, her voice muffled by his gray velour shirt – his favorite. “This was worse. I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye, I-“

“I know, Clarke, I know,” Bellamy whispered, rubbing soothing patterns on her back and she wished she could hate him for being so understanding, wished she could hate the whole world for making her know what life was like without her dad when she needed him.

But she could never hate Bellamy. All she could do is push him away, strong enough for his eyes to widen in surprise, and ask him to leave.

“Clarke-“

“No, Bell, I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

A look of hurt flashed across his face and she stood up, frantically moving towards the door and holding them open. Bellamy was still frozen on her couch.

“I really don’t. Please, leave me alone.”

Octavia’s head snapped up from where she’d been playing and paying no attention to what they were doing, and Clarke felt horrible.

“Don’t do this, please,” he begged again. Clarke shook her head and rattled the doorknob, on the brink of tears again.

 _It’s not your fault_ , she wanted to say. _It’s not your fault but I need to hurt someone and push them away because I feel so alone and so hopeless that my heart just might burst._

She never said it, instead told him to get out. And he could never say no to her. He picked up Octavia and left, just like she’d wanted him to, but there was something so sad about his mouth curled downwards and his eyes behind the thick glass as he passed her in the doorway that she slumped down to the floor.

She was just thirteen, just stupid, silly thirteen and there were so many things that she wanted to do. If only she had her dad, if only every breath didn’t feel like choking.

Rocking back and forth, she heard the dollhouse on the top shelf rattling, felt glitter sprinkling across her face.

“Thirty and successful.”

She wanted to fast forward to where she would be accepting her graduation certificate, to where she would be a successful lawyer with all of this behind her.

“Thirty and successful.”

Nothing that would hurt, just success and knowing that her dad would be proud of her – but his death still a long way away from her. Not this gaping wound but something that would hurt less.

She fell asleep on the basement floor, hands wrapped around her sides, and _wanted_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

** May 2015 **

 

Clarke was woken up by a horrible pinging noise and she groaned. Her hand searched the night stand for the alarm clock she could hit but there was nothing and she opened her eyes in confusion.

The room around her wasn’t her room, that much was clear. It looked like an adult’s room – white walls, no posters on them, and grey sheets covering her. The last she remembered was falling asleep in her basement and this definitely wasn’t a room in her house.

She got up shakily, throwing the covers to the floor and squinting at the nightstand. There was a watch and a device that was letting out pinging noises. Except – it wasn’t her alarm clock. It looked like a tablet she’d seen in Back to Future, thin with LCD screen and she tried tapping on it.

The noise stopped.

“ _What_?”

Carefully, she put one foot in front of the other until she opened the doors and stepped into a hallway. Definitely not her house – the hallway led into a wide living room, furnished in a really minimalistic style that she’d never choose.

Still, she went towards the living room, hoping she could get a hold of a phone or something she could use to call her mom or Bellamy since she was slowly starting to panic. And just before she was about to step into the living room, a mirror to her right caught her attention and she shrieked, stumbling backwards and falling over a couch.

She jumped up again and squinted at the mirror. It wasn’t her, couldn’t have been her. The woman was older – around twenty-five, at least, and she had curly blonde hair, the most vibrant blue eyes Clarke had ever seen and - okay, so this definitely wasn’t Clarke since Clarke never had boobs that big.

Except – she waved a hand in front of her and the person in the mirror did the same. She made a funny face and it was reflected in the glass.

“Oh no.”

She scrambled for the phone wedged between cushions on the couch and stabbed her home number in, waiting through three rings only to go straight to voicemail.

“Hi, you’ve reached Abby and Marcus Kane. We’re sorry we couldn’t take your call but we’re on a cruise in the Caribbean. Call back on the 28th. Have a good day!”

Clarke dropped the phone and it fell to the floor with a clatter. Who the hell was Marcus and why would her mom go on a cruise without her?

“Babe, you left your phone!”

She whirled around on the couch, stubbing her toe on the coffee table and hissing in pain as a very naked man stepped into the living room, holding the tablet-thingy in his hand.

He smiled at her like they were friends (or, judging by his very naked state she had to look away from, something more) and Clarke promptly stood up.

“Excuse me, who are you?”

The man frowned at first and then his features softened to allow for a small smile. “We shouldn’t have drunk so much last night. I’m sorry, Clarke,” he smiled again, something oddly unsettling about it, and handed her the thing he called a phone. Definitely not a phone. “Anyways, Lexa called. You have a meeting in an hour.”

When she didn’t move, he frowned again. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

Oh, this was a dream. Yeah, that made sense. A really weird dream. She’d kill Bellamy for that wishing dust – it was probably toxic or something.

“Right, right. And, uh, let’s just pretend I forgot where I was supposed to go?”

The man laughed, stepping closer to her to cup her cheek in his hand. It was really hard to avert her gaze now but she focused on his eyes. He had nice eyes. A little bit Justin Timberlake-y. Bellamy could say whatever he wanted to but Justin was cute.

“We are never drinking again,” he said, pressing his lips against hers in a chaste peck. Now, Clarke didn’t know a whole lot about kissing – she was thirteen, for God’s sake, but she reckoned this was a nice sort of kiss.

Not like the one she’d shared with Bellamy when she caught him drooling over his hand (“I’m practicing”, he’d said) and told him to just suck it up and kiss her. _That_ was a kiss she’d liked but they never spoke of it after, so.  

“Your office is on the corner of Madison and 72nd, I’ll get you a cab,” he said and she nodded, still in a daze because of the kiss. He looked way too old but it wasn’t weird – she felt like thirteen and she felt older at the same time. “We’re never drinking again, by the way.”

Her voice was high-pitched when she squeaked in reply, “Works for me!”

The man threw her an amused glance over his shoulder and she finally managed to move, practically running into what she supposed was her bedroom. She locked the door behind her and sighed, observing the state of it. The covers were rumpled, clothes were strewn across the floor and she got the first clean shirt she could find, hastily buttoning it up.

It wasn’t until she saw the frame on the wall next to the mirror (which – wow, she looked _good_ ) that she realized where she was supposed to be going.

It was a graduation certificate from –

“Harvard Law,” she gasped, running her fingers across the wooden frame and admiring the letters that said Clarke Griffin graduated summa cum laude.

If this was a dream, it was a really good one. She smiled at the certificate, throwing on her pants and a pair of high heels. She could walk in them without even trying and when she saw the final result in the mirror, she couldn’t help but to grin.

Clarke Griffin, a lawyer.

The man – Finn, from what she’d realized when he spoke his name into his phone (she figured out how to unlock hers, a miracle enough) – accompanied her to the door. When the elevator doors closed in front of her, she let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding since she woke up.

She was thirty. She was thirty and successful, graduate from Harvard Law and her name was written on the plate of the building in which she worked. Like it wasn’t confusing enough that she lived in the Fifth Avenue ( _Fifth-freaking-Avenue_ ) but she was also a partner at the law firm she’d been working in.

It was wonderful and amazing, a dream come true, but where did seventeen years of her life go? Where was her mom, who was Marcus Kane, and where was Bellamy? She’d scrolled through the contacts in her phone but she didn’t see his name anywhere.

When she entered the office, two girls widened their eyes at the sight of her and hurried in her direction. The lobby was packed with people already, rushing to and fro, some of them waiting, and everything about the front desk and design screamed money.

“Miss Griffin, I am very sorry,” a girl with wide and scared brown eyes came up to her, clutching her stack of papers. “We didn’t know what to do when you didn’t call us back yesterday so Jasper went to see if he could get something out of the judge in the case.”

Clarke didn’t have the first idea what the girl was talking about but she nodded, trying to appear confident and in total control. She found that she could do it very well, surprisingly.

“Yes, alright, no problem.”

The girl seemed confused but then nodded, “Thank you. Please let me know if you need anything.”

“Sure, yes. No, wait – I’m sorry, what was your name?”

If the girl was confused by the fact that Clarke didn’t know her name, she didn’t show it.

“Maya.”

“Yes, Maya, can you – can you do something for me?”

“Anything, Miss Griffin.”

“Could you get me an address for Bellamy Blake?”

This surprised the girl – Maya – and she stepped closer, voice a bit quieter. “Are you sure you want to talk to him, _now_?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You told me not to put him through, ever?” Maya offered, a tinge of uncertainty in her voice. “Because he’s always asking around about Mr. Wallace?”

Wallace – Wallace – the name sounded very familiar but Clarke couldn’t place it. Still, the girl was waiting for her answer and she cleared her throat before speaking. Why would she ever refuse to take Bellamy’s calls? That made zero sense.

“I – it’s unrelated to work.”

Maya’s eyebrows shot up into her hair and Clarke hastened to add, “No, nothing like that. Can you just get me a number, an address, anything?”

“Sure thing, Miss Griffin.”

Clarke was barely left alone for a second before a tall woman with intricately braided bun on top of her head knocked shoulders with her, smirking. “Meeting in ten, Griffin.”

She nodded, still fuzzy from too many things happening at the same time, but she shook her head and told herself to get a grip. The conference room wasn’t hard to locate and she took a seat next to the woman who’d told her about the meeting in the first place.

“Tsing is going to annoy us with Wallace again,” she rolled her eyes, not even noticing how wide Clarke’s eyes were. Wallace, she kept hearing that name again and again.

Underneath her table, she took out her phone and googled it quickly. She was thankful, for one, that Google still existed.

It took her a couple of seconds to scroll through the search results, and two names kept popping up – Dante and Cage. She remembered Dante Wallace, an entrepreneur popular back when she was thirteen. He promised clean, renewable energy but Clarke’s dad always had something to say about the fact that he was disposing toxic waste in rivers around the States.

Apparently, Dante Wallace died two years ago and his only successor was his son, Cage. From the pictures she’d seen, he seemed like a real jerk. Something about his slicked back hair and that creepy smile sent shivers down her spine.

It only got worse when she realized that Tsing, Woods & Griffin were the ones who represented him. Everything about him screamed foul play.

“Clarke?”

She snapped her head up, dropping her phone to the floor and then scrambling to get it while a dark-skinned woman with a smug smile observed her. That was probably Tsing.

“If you are ready to join us now?”

“Sure, right.”

The woman with braids sitting next to her threw her a sidelong glance, mouthing ‘ _snap out of it_ ’ and Clarke cleared her throat.

“What is it that you needed?”

“How are we on Wallace v. Sterling?” Tsing asked. When Clarke didn’t show signs of recognition, she raised her left eyebrow and added, “The case you’re working on?”

She had absolutely no idea what Tsing was talking about but Maya did say something about a case Clarke was working on so she decided to wing it. Like she’s been doing since she woke up.

“I have my assistants on it. They are talking to the judge as we speak.”

Tsing nodded, shifting her attention to the woman sitting next to Clarke. “And you, Lexa? Any progress on the lot permits?”

Clarke tuned out for the rest of the meeting, especially when Maya slid in the room and handed her a piece of paper. She unfolded it carefully; Bellamy’s name, number and home address were written in neat and precise handwriting.

When the meeting ended, she all but ran out of the conference room, followed by Tsing’s snickers (not that she knew what she’d done to the woman) and told Maya she’d be back as soon as possible. The girl didn’t say anything, only nodded, and Clarke hopped in the first cab available.

Bellamy lived in Greenwich Village, in a neat little building she took to immediate liking. She still didn’t understand why Maya was confused that she wanted to talk to him but, pressing the button on the entrance of his building, there wasn’t anyone else Clarke could turn to.

It’s not like they stopped being friends, right? She would never stop being friends with Bellamy.

A deep voice crackled from the speaker. “Yes?”

“Hi – um, it’s Clarke Griffin? I don’t even know if I pressed the right button but if your name is Bellamy Blake, you wrote a piece for Ark High newspaper exposing the bad lunches in cafeteria and your favorite shirt is the grey velour one, please let me in!”

“I didn’t catch any of that but come on up.”

The doors buzzed and Clarke pushed them, entering the building. He was supposed to live on the second floor and she realized that he was when she saw his name on the door to the right. She could barely contain herself not to slam on the doors, instead opting for a polite knock.

The man who opened the door must have been Bellamy but it wasn’t Bellamy Clarke remembered. No, this stranger was tall and lean, muscular arms under a tight-fitting brown sweater, as opposed to a scrawny Bellamy she remembered. The only thing she could recognize was the scar on his upper lip (coincidentally, the very reason they became friends in the first place), his glasses (although these looked way more expensive and less nerdy, something she wasn’t sure she liked) and the freckles scattered across his face.

What surprised her was that he didn’t greet her with a smile but with a frown and a growled “What the hell do _you_ want?”

She took a step back and blinked, confused.

“Bellamy – it’s me, it’s Clarke Griffin.”

“I know who you are,” he rolled his eyes and leaned on the doorway, blocking her path inside. “I said – what do you want?”

“Bell, I have no idea what’s going on but there’s a naked stranger in my apartment, a girl who I think is my assistant told me I’m not taking your calls, my mom is on a cruise and I was thirteen just yesterday!”

“Okay, alright, I see what’s going on here,” he rolled his eyes again, moving back into his apartment and he would’ve shut the door in her face if she hadn’t strategically positioned her foot to stop him from doing so.

“Bellamy, please,” her voice had gotten quieter and she could feel a lump forming in the back of her throat. She was just so stupidly confused and now her best friend didn’t want to talk to her. “Please, I don’t know what’s happening. The last thing I remember is talking to you on my thirteenth birthday.”

He eyed her for a second or two and then sighed, moving aside to let her in. “I know I’m going to regret this.”

She stepped into his apartment and this one she liked much better than the one she lived in. It looked homelier, exposed brick in the kitchen, mugs and plates all over the kitchen island and stacks of books across the living room.

“Thank you,” she said when he closed the door behind them.

“Whatever. You want coffee?”

“Yeah, okay.”

She never liked coffee but if she was an adult now – well, that would explain why she had a hard time waking up without it.

While he puttered around in his kitchen, she took in his living room. Papers were scattered all around the floor, coffee table in front of a comfy couch was covered in ink and coffee stains, and framed articles were displayed on the walls.  

“Did you write those?” she gestured towards the frames. She saw that some of them were published in the New York Times, some in the Washington Post, and they certainly seemed very important.

“What- oh, those. Yeah. Don’t you remember?”

“I don’t remember anything since my thirteenth birthday which was just _yesterday_ ,” she explained, taking a seat on his couch, careful not to rumple any papers there. She still recognized his messy handwriting and chuckled at the sight.

“That was about the last time we talked to each other,” he told her, sitting in an armchair in front of her and curling his fingers around his mug. “Really talked, I mean.”

Clarke stared at him, confused.

“You really don’t remember.”

This time it wasn’t a question, it was a fact, and he shook his head with a disbelieving smile.

“No, Bell, I don’t. Otherwise, why –“

“Don’t call me that,” he hissed and she automatically jerked away, nearly spilling her coffee all over the floor. She couldn’t recognize her best friend in this stranger but she wanted to. She really, really wanted to.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well… It doesn’t change anything.”

“What happened?”

“What happened is that you told me to leave on your thirteenth birthday and never spoke to me once. You threw yourself into your studies, ignored me most of the time, and I heard you went on to Harvard. Then I heard about you a few months ago when that Wallace article came out and you all but threw me out of your office. How can you represent that fucker?”

Grown-ups swear, yeah, okay. She’d have to remember that one.

“I don’t –“she started and then sighed, leaning back into the couch. Her feet were killing her, she hated the stupid suit and she couldn’t believe that her best friend was acting like she was his enemy. “I don’t remember anything, I don’t know!”

“Well, if you do remember something, give me a call.”

Clarke left feeling like she’d been slapped. This was Bellamy, she’d talked to him about music, movies and her dad just yesterday – they were inseparable. He made her a dollhouse, for God’s sake, they were _best friends_.

And now he didn’t even want to talk to her, animosity seeping out of his every word, every gesture.

When she returned to the office, there was a new person waiting for her – a tall, really gorgeous Latina who told her “It’s Raven, stupid” with an eye roll when she asked her if they knew each other. The only person who spoke to her like that and Clarke automatically assumed they were close when she invited her for lunch, saying that her fiancé would be joining them.

“Yeah, you know Finn, he’s always busy with something,” Raven said, sounding fond. Clarke mostly just tried not to talk about anything so she wouldn’t blow her cover of knowing what the heck is going on but that proved surprisingly hard to do when Finn Raven talked about was Finn who had been standing naked in her apartment earlier that day.

Raven pecked his cheek, motioning for him to join them. “How was the trip, babe?”

He showed no signs that he recognized Clarke and she froze in her tracks.

“Boring, as always.”

When Raven left to settle the bill and he leaned forward with a flirtatious smirk to ask Clarke if he’d be seeing her tonight, she could barely restrain herself from dousing him in cold water. Instead, she settled for a simple no and left as soon as possible.

Raven seemed to be her friend. Finn was also her fiancé, and Clarke’s boyfriend. She wasn’t talking to her best friend, her mom had remarried and her colleagues hated her.

Suddenly, Clarke knew why grownups drank so much wine. She settled in front of her laptop with a whole bottle that night, her apartment annoyingly quiet and the only CDs she could find were classical music. There were photos on the walls and she’d inspected them carefully, trying to realize what the hell happened since she was thirteen but she could barely recognize herself – the girl in the photos didn’t seem like her. She was polished and reserved, a brittle smile on her at all times and –

It wasn’t Clarke.

She was on her second wine glass when she decided to google herself. Searching ‘Clarke Griffin’ meant she’d find at least a hundred results, from an article listing the most successful lawyers under thirty to her statements to the press regarding Cage Wallace.

There was a video, too, and she played it.

“ _We refuse to comment on the absurd charges against our client,_ ” she’d said, her lips curling into a sneer as she stood on the court steps. “ _And we will be, of course, pressing charges for slander as soon as possible. Mr. Wallace is a philanthropist, an entrepreneur, and certainly not a man prone to explicit outbursts of violence. Frankly, this pathetic attempt of discrediting a man who gives his heart and soul for this city disgusts me, but it doesn’t concern us in the slightest_.”

She was an asshole. Thirty year-old Clarke was an asshole, lying through her teeth with I’m-better-than-you smile plastered across her face.

Thirty and successful meant nothing when she was a bad person who had a relationship with her friend’s fiancé and when she represented people like Cage Wallace.

Further googling of the said jerk showed that not only he followed in his father’s footsteps in shady practices of waste disposal, but he was also truly prone to violence and Bellamy’s name was behind every interview with one of his employees who claimed that he physically and mentally abused them. He went so far as to threaten them if they spoke about it.

Clarke cried herself to sleep that night, curled in the middle of the bed in an apartment that she didn’t even like, but she woke up wanting to change things. Seventeen years of her life were gone but she’d be damned if she didn’t try to make some difference in what she had left.

 

**

 

Maya didn’t look surprised when Clarke told her that she had a feeling she was coming down with a flu, only backed away slightly, and she needed her to copy all of the files they had on Wallace.

While Maya busied herself with the files, Clarke called Bellamy. While she waited for him to pick up, she paced back and forth in her office, ignoring Lexa and Lorelai when they knocked, wanting to speak to her.

“Bellamy Blake.”

She was so relieved that he’d picked up that she let out a long sigh.

“Who’s there?”

“It’s Clarke, Clarke Griffin.”

His polite tone changed to a hostile one and she dug her nails into her palm. “Oh, it’s you. What?”

“I need to see you tonight. I have something you might be interested in.”

“If this is just you trying to get back at me for that article, don’t even try it,” he said, threat clear in his voice. “I’m not going to stop writing about Wallace, no matter how hard you try.”

“It’s not that! It _is_ about Wallace but – I want to help you.”

He was quiet for a long minute and she was about to reconsider if this was the right course of action when he finally spoke.

“Alright. Be there at eight tonight.”

“Thank you. And, Bellamy-“

A loud beep stopped her and she frowned at her screen. He hung up on her.

She still couldn’t believe that this is what became of them when she was tugging the boxes up to his apartment that night. Maya copied everything, true to her word, and didn’t even ask a single question. Clarke was pretty sure that she wasn’t exactly allowed to do that and there’ll certainly be hell to pay – she’d be disbarred, that was for sure – but it was the only thing she could do to make this right.

When she was a kid, just two days ago, she wanted to become a lawyer so she could do some good in the world. It was idealism, for sure, but Bellamy was the same. They shared that – their need to make this world a better place, to make justice stand for something. To give the poor the same privilege of being innocent until proven guilty the rich had.

And she threw it all down the wind, settled for money that bought her her Fifth Avenue apartment. She wondered if Clarke that she was now ever felt guilty. Somehow, that didn’t seem likely.

Bellamy was visibly surprised when she rang his doorbell, having lugged up all the boxes in front of his apartment. It was a bore to bring them all up but it was also the only thing she could do so she flashed him an apologetic smile before asking him to help her.

They carried the boxes into his apartment in complete silence, tension almost tangible in the air between them, and when they finally plopped down on his couch, Bellamy turned to face her, suspicious as he always was in her presence. Or, in the presence of this Clarke she’d become.

“Why help me now?”

She was wringing her hands in her lap as she tried to think of the best thing to say. The truth was the only thing she could offer.

“Because I’m sorry. I don’t – I told you I don’t remember what’s happened in the last seventeen years but I can at least try to fix it, right?”

He kept quiet and she kept talking.

“I’m sorry, Bell, for everything. I don’t remember doing any of that and I doesn’t make any sense that I would ignore you, but – if that’s the person I became, I don’t want to stay that way.”

He seemed to ponder over her words and she nudged his shoulder. “Please say something.”

“This is going to get you fired.”

Not exactly what she’d been hoping for but she’d take it. It was better than putting up with all the silence.

“Probably, yes. But I don’t want to work in a firm that represents people like Cage Wallace.”

He shot her a loaded look and she was almost expecting him to say something important, something like that he forgives her but when he finally spoke, exasperation laced his voice.

“Fine, let’s get to work then.”

They split the boxes between the two of them, Bellamy on the floor and Clarke on the couch. There were so many papers, most of them completely insignificant but some – some were real treasure. Clarke was confused to even have realized it – she didn’t possess extensive knowledge of law and economics just two days ago but now – now she did.

“Look at this,” she called Bellamy over and tried not to shiver when he came close enough for his arm to brush against hers. There was still her Bellamy in there, a confused, scrawny school newspaper reporter who stuck a voice recorder under her nose on her thirteenth birthday, but he didn’t seem to recognize her.

No, this Bellamy felt nothing but contempt and disdain for this Clarke. She’d googled him, too, and wasn’t one bit surprised that he’d actually become successful. He deserved to.

“What’s that?”

“His off-shore company files. He’s bought,” she checked the paper, “three new properties in the last two months and transferred ownership to that company. That way he didn’t have to pay the taxes.”

Bellamy snorted. “So what, we catch him on _tax evasion_?”

“They caught Al Capone that way,” she shrugged.

“Yeah, if you manage to connect that company to his name. Which, good luck with that. If there’s anything these guys can do, they can cover their tracks so well that no one can ever trace it back to them.”

He huffed and sat next to her, eyes glued to the ceiling. “It’s hopeless.”

“Don’t say that! If you keep saying that it’s hopeless, it’s going to be,” she scolded him, glaring. His eyes widened in surprise and she had to mask a chuckle as a cough because that’s how they were before. He’d be stressing out about something and she’d knock some sense into him.

Over the next few weeks, it became easier to work with him. More familiar, more comfortable. She started going back to the office and Maya probably caught on to what she was doing because she always winked at Clarke, saying that she’d take care of the meetings she didn’t want to attend and letting her slip away unnoticed.

During the evenings, however, the two of them met in his apartment, fresh pot of coffee always waiting for them, and they’d spend a better part of the night going over the documents and exchanging matching somber looks, accompanied by “Fucking prick” meant for Wallace.

Clarke also started swearing which was a whole lot of fun. Perks of being an adult.

It was during the night when Bellamy realized how to connect Wallace to the off-shore company that Clarke met his fiancée.

Roma Sawyer was gorgeous, smart, funny and exactly the person Bellamy deserved. She popped in unannounced one evening, bringing them takeout and not even flinching when she saw Clarke’s feet propped up in Bellamy’s lap.

“You’re Clarke, right?” she asked, smiling. “Yeah, Bellamy talks a lot about you. I’m honestly just glad that you two made up.”

Clarke glimpsed at Bellamy, who looked completely love-struck admiring his fiancée bringing them two plates filled with spring rolls. He was in love and that shouldn’t have made her stomach plummet but it did.

She always liked Bellamy. She liked him when they were thirteen but it was different because they were just kids. But she liked this Bellamy, too, a relentless reporter, always in search of a story that would help make this world a better place.

He didn’t like her, though. And he sure as hell couldn’t have ever been in love with her, judging by the way he kissed Roma. It was brief but it was obvious how much he loved her.

It was a bittersweet feeling, seeing someone you loved loving someone else. She was happy for him but she knew he could never be happy with her.

So she returned to the files, trying to be as polite as possible, but she took the first chance to leave. Bellamy was confused when he walked her to the door but didn’t ask anything.

“We’ll – I’ll call you tomorrow, alright? We can come up with a plan,” she told him, sticking her hands into her pockets at his doorstep.

“Sure.”

She thought about calling Raven that night, curled up in a ball on her couch in her too big apartment overlooking Central Park, but how could she ever do that? How could she call the girl with whose fiancé she’d been sleeping? Finn didn’t call after she told him that this wasn’t right, but it was still horrible.

Clarke Griffin was a horrible person and it seemed like whatever she did couldn’t change the fact that she’d allowed herself to stoop so low. When she was thirteen, it seemed impossible that she would become this person – the exact sort she never wanted to become.

She lost her mom, she lost Bellamy, hell, even Octavia probably hated her and Bellamy told her that she was living in Seattle now.

There wasn’t a single soul she couldn’t turn to.

 

**

 

Bellamy’s story was published three days before his wedding and the two of them met up in his apartment again, wearing matching victorious grins despite the fact that Clarke was fired as soon as it became clear that she was the one who provided him with all of the files.

Getting fired was the best thing that’s happened to her in a month she’d spent as a thirty year-old and so she bought the best champagne she could find in the store on the corner and popped it as soon as Bellamy got the glasses out.

He smiled, taking a sip. “We did it.”

 “Told you so,” Clarke smirked.

“You did, yeah. My source in the DA’s office tells me that Wallace is getting arrested tomorrow so, good work.”

She knocked her shoulder against his, “I had help.”

It almost felt like they were back to their thirteen year-old selves that night. They laughed on the couch, Bellamy cracked really bad jokes and she teased him about how much he meddled into the school’s affairs when they were kids.

“Still, it paid off,” he teased.

They could have kept the light-hearted atmosphere, if it weren’t for Clarke who suddenly sobered up, realizing that this night was an exception to the rule. And the rule stated that they could never be friends again. This night might have been the last time she’d sit around with him like this.

Besides, the gut-wrenching feeling was back every time she thought of him, and it got much worse when they were close. Thinking about him was one thing but seeing him smile and duck his head in embarrassment as she recounted their childhood adventures was something completely else.

Clarke wanted him to be happy but it only made her miserable to know and to see every day that she could never be the one to make him that way. She could only make him angry, all the memories of the last seventeen years leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He tried to fight it, he forgot about it sometimes but the fact was that she hurt him. And they would never be able to surpass that.

“Thank you for helping me do this,” she finally said after a long pause in which he’d gotten more serious as well. All the levity was gone. “And I am sorry, sorry for everything I don’t remember doing but – I did it. I am sorry I pushed you away when we were thirteen. I am sorry I was a bitch to you. I am sorry for forgetting what it felt like to be friends with you and, most of all, I am sorry that we’ll never be able to go back to that.”

She placed her glass on the coaster and slowly rose to her feet, papers rustling where she stepped on them. Bellamy seemed confused, again, and it was only the selfishness she learned in the last seventeen years that made her open her mouth and say what she shouldn’t have said.

“The thing is, Bellamy, I’m in love with you. I don’t remember what it’s like not being in love with you because I’ve always loved you. I loved you since you stood up for me during that recess and got that scar,” she pointed towards his lip, the rest of his face colored in shock and hurt. “I was just stupid enough to take that for granted. If I could turn back time, I would. God, I would. But I can’t, can I? And you love Roma now, she’s amazing and – I’m really happy for you. But I can’t stick around to watch that. I’m sorry.”

She was about to turn around and leave when he called her name, catching her hand, and she paused. Did she dare hope?

“Wait.”

“Bell-“

“No, just wait, Clarke,” he sounded irritated, shaking his head like he’s trying to understand what she’d just said. “Because you don’t get to do this. You were gone for seventeen years, horrible to me when I called you and now it’s like you’re back to who you were when we were kids. You don’t get to have me like this, at your beck and call. Not anymore. There was a time when I would’ve done anything for you, but I had to get over you. I had to, Clarke.”

Clarke nodded, tears already welling up in her eyes until Bellamy became a blurry haze of brown and grey in front of her, but she still didn’t let go of his hand. This felt like he’d been asking her to forgive him, his tone growing from angry to soft.

“I know, Bell. I just didn’t want to leave without an explanation again, that’s all.”

He stood up, leaning towards her slightly and she felt his fingers brushing the skin under her eyes, swatting away the tears until he became clear again. The look in his eyes would have broken her heart if there was anything left to break.

But she broke it herself.

“If I could turn back time, I would too,” he told her, a watery smile tugging on his lips. “But we can’t go forward from here. You were my friend, sometimes it still feels like you’re that Clarke who babysat Octavia with me, but – you’re not. And I can hold on to those memories for as long as I want but it’s no good. For any of us. I love Roma now. And if we were thirteen, I’d tell you I love you. But that just isn’t true anymore.”

“I know,” she said – and she meant it. This meant being an adult, this meant being honest because you loved someone so much once and even if they don’t deserve your forgiveness, you’ll still give that to them.

It doesn’t mean that they can be a part of your life. But there was a time when you wanted them to be.

He asked her to wait and let go of her hand, another sliver of her heart she didn’t know she had tearing itself to shreds, and she nodded because there was nothing else she could do. Bellamy was right next to her and she missed him, missed him so much it felt like a whole part of her soul was gone.

The only seemingly good thing to come out of this mess was the fact that she didn’t miss her dad anymore. She couldn’t remember his smile, couldn’t remember what it was that he’d always tell her on her birthday, couldn’t remember how much it hurt when he died. And it wasn’t good, not really, it just made her heartless and made her miss the pain that at least meant she’d loved him.

Bellamy returned with a box in his hands, the same watery smile still on his lips, and she let out a nervous giggle when she realized what was in it.

“You returned that to me a couple of days after. Told me you didn’t want it. I still kept it, hoping you’d – you know, come back for it, one day.”

This was him letting go of her. And this was her struggling to hold on to whatever that reminded her of him.

“Thank you.”

“I really wish you all the best, Clarke,” he told her, earnest.

“It just can’t be with you, I know.”

He nodded and she left, wondering why is it that the most important, most heartbreaking things always come and go so quiet. Her heart thrashed around her ribcage, begging her not to leave, begging her to do anything just so she could stay with him and –

She still walked away, drove back to her apartment and curled around the dollhouse on the floor. There were no tears left in her eyes, no rage that would make her wail and sob, kick back and fight harder. Everything was just quiet, the sadness overwhelming when it finally hit her.

There were still specks of wishing dust on Bellamy’s cardboard figure and she scraped it off with her fingernail, smiling at the crooked glasses on his nose and the small carved pencil he stuck behind the figure’s ear.

The glitter shone on her palm and she closed her eyes, hoping that there’s still time. Because none of this meant anything if she couldn’t have the people she loved next to her. It wasn’t thriving, it was barely surviving.

“I want to go back,” she tried. Nothing. She tried blowing on the glitter but it stuck to her skin and wouldn’t move.

She tried all the phrasings she could think of and she was still in her apartment when she opened her eyes, over and over again. No matter how much she screamed at her palm, shouted at the dollhouse and cried, begging to just go home already – nothing happened.

She missed her mom, missed her dad, missed Bellamy and Octavia, missed what it felt like not to be lonely.

Nothing moved, nothing shifted.

She placed Bellamy’s cardboard figurine next to Clarke’s and fell asleep tracing their outlines, remembering what it felt like to be loved and wishing to just be thirteen again. Nothing else mattered, she just wanted to go home.

 

* * *

 

 

** May 1998 **

 

There was world’s most awful crick in her neck when Clarke woke up and her first instinct was to throw her head back and groan. But she hit something and promptly opened her eyes, wondering what the hell it was that she fell asleep on.

The memories of last night drifted back to her mind, falling asleep on her floor next to the dollhouse and then – Bellamy. Bellamy telling her that he’d been in love with her when they were younger and both of them saying that they’d turn back the time, if only they could.

There was nothing she could do, not now, not ever. She had her chance and she’d ruined it by wishing for a different life she thought would be better. It was much, much worse.

But when she opened her eyes, there was no sunlight filtering in through the big window in her living room. In fact, she could only see a sliver of light and she stumbled towards it, nearly tripping on something on the floor in the process.

Her hands found curtains and she threw them aside, squinting at the sudden light.

It wasn’t New York.

She turned around and realized that this wasn’t her apartment, it was her room – the same posters, the same bedspread with rocket ships, and the dollhouse right on her nightstand.

Clarke all but rushed towards the mirror above her drawer and she beamed at herself when she recognized the untamed frizzy blonde curls and the obvious lack of curves. Thirteen, thirteen and awkward but thirteen and home.

Her mother smiled in relief when she ran downstairs and threw herself into her arms. “I love you so much!”

“Whoa, where’d this come from?”

“What?” she asked, raising her chin defiantly to her mom’s obvious amusement. “I can’t tell my mom that I love her?”

“Of course you can. Do you want pancakes or waffles?”

Clarke thought about it and then finally decided. “Pancakes. The Blakes will be joining us.”

“Oh? Didn’t you and Bellamy fight last night?”

“It doesn’t matter, I love him and he loves me so he’ll be here.”

Abby just smiled knowingly and Clarke realized how much she loves her mom. The two of them would be just fine, she decided.

Butterflies wouldn’t stop fluttering around in her stomach as she threw on her clothes and ran out into the sunlight-filled morning. Bellamy’s house was only a block away from hers and she ran all the way, getting all red and breathless by the time she rung his doorbell.

His eyes widened in surprise when he opened the door and Clarke grinned. Yes, this was her Bellamy – thick glasses, unruly curls and limbs way too long for his body, a bit awkward but definitely her best friend and – perfect.

She took his hand as soon as he stepped outside and the door swung shut behind them.

“I just had the weirdest dream, Bell,” she told him, propping up on her toes. She wasn’t tiny and he wasn’t huge but he was still a couple of inches taller and it annoyed her. “You didn’t want to be friends with me.”

He looked shocked. “That’s horrible, I would never – “

“I know, right? But anyways, I met the future version of you and he told me that he was in love with me when we were thirteen.”

Bellamy ducked his head, rubbing his neck with the hand that wasn’t currently holding hers, and Clarke smiled when she saw his cheeks reddening.

“Oh, um – did – did he now?” he stammered.

“Yep,” she popped the p audibly, her smile growing wider when Bellamy met her eyes and she recognized the same loving gaze she’d been seeing every day. She wondered why she didn’t recognize it when it was the most obvious thing in the world.

She loved that wonderful, flustering, bumbling boy looking at her behind his glasses like she was the best thing in the world. And she never wanted to be without him at her side, never wanted to hurt him – instead, she decided that she would spend the rest of her days loving him.

“Which is good, Bell. Because you’re my best friend and I’m so grateful you’re here. And I’m in love with you, too.”

His eyes widened again and she bit into her cheek so she wouldn’t grin victoriously.

“Really?”

Clarke rolled her eyes – yup, that’s Bellamy alright – and clutched the front of his shirt, pulling him closer until she could press her lips against his. It took him a second or two but he returned it, smiling into it, and she couldn’t help but to move away and laugh, a little breathless.

The look in his eyes was soft, fond and absolutely inexplicable in a way that made her heart swell with joy.  

“Come on, then,” she nudged his shoulder. “Go get, O, you’re having pancakes at my place.”

The smile on his face made her realize why the guys who got the girls in sappy eighties movies always pumped their fists into the air. It really felt like a victory.

 

* * *

 

 

** May 2015 **

 

“Come on, Bell!”

Clarke pushed her fiancé forward, nearly making him trip and spill the contents of the two boxes he’d been carrying. He let out a muffled yelp and she rolled her eyes, coming to stand in front of him with her hands on her hips.

She’d seen him look lovingly at her when they were thirteen and now, seventeen years later, he still had the same look in his eyes whenever she was around.

“Bell, you know Octavia will kill us if we don’t get everything ready until tonight, right? And if she kills me, then who’s going to defend her when she finally snaps and beats the hell out of her boss?”

Bellamy rolled his eyes but adjusted the boxes so he could press a kiss to Clarke’s temple as he strode forward into their new house.

“It’s a good thing my fiancée is a lawyer,” he added, dropping the boxes to the floor with a clatter and whirling around to wrap his arms around her waist.

This wasn’t the first time they moved in together but it was the first time they both had stable jobs and a wedding to plan. Even after all this time, the novelty didn’t wear off and whenever Bellamy kissed her, she was thirteen and standing on his doorstep with butterflies in her stomach.

They did get hotter since then, and also more successful, but Octavia liked to say that they were both the same old nerds who bickered about whether Justin Timberlake was hot or not. And when she dug up Bellamy’s old voice recorder he used to pester Clarke with, both of them knew that there’d be hell to pay.

Mostly, it was just wonderful, having a huge family. Over time, Clarke’s mother remarried – Marcus Kane worked with her in the hospital and he was a nice man. The two of them still visited Clarke’s father’s grave but they also knew that Jake wanted them to be happy. She still missed him but it got easier as her family grew.

Octavia and her boyfriend Lincoln were also part of her family, always at Bell and Clarke’s during the weekends. Bellamy went on his overprotective spree at first but even he could see the way Lincoln looked at Octavia.

Then there were their friends, and everyone else they’d met and grown to love. Mostly, it just meant that you never had to feel alone. There was plenty of love to go around.

And that’s exactly the way Clarke wanted it. Over time, she forgot about the dream she’d had on the night of her thirteenth birthday, but she could remember feeling lonely and very Bellamy-less, something she didn’t want to ever get to know in real life.

It was much better like this, with Bellamy spinning her around in their new living room and then dropping to his knees to lean his cheek on her lower belly.

“I was thinking Andromeda if it’s a girl,” he told Clarke, shifting slightly to look up at her with wide puppy eyes. “Augustus if it’s a boy.”

Clarke flicked his nose with her finger. “You want everyone to know that their dad is a mythology nerd? And that their mom _condones_ it?”

Try as she might, she couldn’t mask the fondness in her voice. There he was, his arms wrapped around her sides and his cheek pressing into her stomach. She could feel him smile through her shirt and she twisted forward to press a kiss into his hair.

“I like the names,” she whispered. “I like _you_.”

“You’re only saying that because you knew I would be hot.”

“Maybe,” she teased and when he looked up, mock-surprised, she stuck her tongue out at him. “Come on, Bell, I liked you when you were thirteen and awkward. I’ll like you _always_.”

She smiled because it was true and he smiled because he knew. If there was one absolute truth in her whole life – it was that she loved Bellamy. And that was a good enough thing to make everything else seem like a piece of cake, as long as he’s where she wants him. Right next to her.

**Author's Note:**

> That's that! Thank you all for reading and if you liked it, please remember the dynamic duo: kudos and comments!
> 
> Seriously, I fucking love all of your comments and I squeal every single time I read them. Yes, I do reread them. Yes, I'm the same hyped nerd every time. Sorry not sorry.
> 
> p.s. if you want to send me prompts/compliments/criticisms/punch me in the face/feed me cookies - i'm right [here](http://marauders-groupie.tumblr.com).


End file.
